The Dimension Weaver (Alice the Fallen Mystery Book 2)

by K. H. Pope

“Did you know that Vanessa had a Porsche 356? Her mom told us that Timber gave it to her.”

  “Vanessa told me that she won the car through a contest from a radio station.”

  So, this Vanessa has a knack for lying. Why would she tell her stepmom that Timber gave it to her, and then tell Ms. Mews she won it from a contest?

  “Did she come back after lunch?” I ask.

  “Yes, I believe so.”

  “After work, did Vanessa tell you where she planned on going?”

  “She had a class. I’m not sure which one.”

  “One last question, Ms. Mews. Did the mayor speak or see Vanessa that last day?”

  “I’m not sure. Mayor Freland is busy every day, and the only way I can keep up with his schedule is by writing it down. Unfortunately, I keep all that at work.”

  “Well, Ms. Mews, thank you so much for you time,” I say as I stand.

  “That’s it. I rarely have guests. You two can stay and have another cup of coffee if you wish.”

  “Oh, no,” John says. “One cup will keep me for the rest of the day.”

  “Alright,” she remarks while standing with him.

  “May we have your phone number if we need to speak with you again?” John asks.

  She touches his arm and gives him her number. They are so cute. He thanks her, and we take our leave.

  When John and I are inside the truck, I start laughing. He looks at me curiously.

  “You made an impression on her,” I state.

  “I did, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, indeed,” I remark. “So, where to next?”

  “We’re going to Timber’s apartment, but we also need to find Vanessa’s class schedule.”

  “Tip can do that.”

  “You call him,” John says. “But give me Timber’s address first.”

  I read the address aloud from my phone. As John starts driving, I call Tip. He gets right on my request. After I hang up, I decide to read more on Timber’s criminal record. It tells of a light career in criminal activity. Two DUIs, three breaking and entering charges, but he has no gun and no drug charges. I wonder what it is about this big guy that has drawn Vanessa to him. Asking Timber is the only way I’m going to get an answer.

  CHAPTER 13

  The quiet drive to Timber’s house in Dumas, Texas, is interrupted by John’s cell phone. I’m thinking it might be Tip, but from John’s expression, I’m not sure who it is. He reads me the number and asks if I know it. I tell him that I don’t. John shrugs his shoulders and presses the speaker button.

  “This is John Zuller.”

  “Mr. Zuller,” a man says. “This is Detective Matthew Boyd. Mr. Brenlich contacted me. He says that you came by his home uninvited and harassed his family. Questioned his wife about his daughter. Is that true?”

  “Detective Boyd, we have reliable information that Vanessa is not with her mother in the Hamptons, and that the Brenlich family is being threatened.”

  “They would have told me.”

  “They’re trying to protect their daughter,” John says.

  “What is your proof, Mr. Zuller?”

  “Mrs. Brenlich told us.”

  “Us? I suppose you have someone by the name of Alice there with you?”

  “I am here,” I answer.

  “Well, since the both of you can hear me, let me make something perfectly clear. The Brenlich family does not want your interference and neither do I. This is the only phone call I will make regarding this matter.”

  “Detect-”

  “Your inquiry is over, Mr. Zuller. Leave them alone. Good day to you both.”

  The phone call ends with a distinct click.

  “Well, he’s not going to do anything,” I remark.

  “He’s going with the family’s wishes. We’re unwelcomed outsiders. There’s no reason for him to listen to us.”

  “That’s really too bad, John. We could have used his help, actually. He has resources we don’t.”

  John stares at me like he’s impressed. “I think you need to consider doing this all the time.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Looking for missing people.”

  “No.”

  “Why not? You care about what happens to others. You’re doing great with this case so far, and you found Lana back in July.”

  “John, I found Lana by sheer luck.”

  “But you wouldn’t have gotten that far without all the leg work. Nothing says you have to be the expert private detective. You take the information, follow what makes sense, and you keep trying until you find what you’re looking for.”

  “You make it sound so simple and easy,” I comment. “If you look at where we are now, we really haven’t gotten any closer to finding the person that put Vanessa in that dimension trap, and none of the humans we’ve spoken to are capable. Olivia Brenlich didn’t do it. Mia Mews is not involved, and who knows what this Theodore Timber is about. We haven’t questioned one supernatural person since we’ve started.”

  “You expect to have answers after speaking to only two people?”

  “I feel like I’m not good enough to get this done, John. We might be chasing what people say for nothing. What Vanessa did her last day might not even matter. It could have been a random act. Some crazy wizard sees her on the street. He snatches her and puts her in a dimension trap to be a trophy.”

  “You want to quit?” John calmly asks.

  I sigh with frustration and say, “I want the experts to help her.”

  “Who are the experts?”

  “The Magi Elite Missing Persons Unit,” I answer. “They have people who investigate supernatural things like this all the time. She has a much better chance of being freed with them on the case than with me. I’m just some foolish fallen angel that lost her way. I can’t do anything for anyone.”

  “Yes, you can. You proved that you can.”

  “You’re not hearing me, John.”

  “I hear you loud and clear. You have two choices here, and the Magi Elite is not it. You can return to your life of wandering and staring at statues, or you keep trying. It’s not going to be perfect. It’s not going to be easy.”

  I just wanted to exist, be left alone, but here I am again; unable to turn away, unable to not get involved. Being a guardian angel was ten times easier.

  “You want me to drop you off at the nearest door so you can transfer out of here?” John asks.

  “I never said I was going to quit, John. I’m going to keep at it.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “Good,” he answers with a nod. “Alright.”

  I have a feeling that all this effort will be for nothing. Vanessa doesn’t have a chance.

  CHAPTER 14

  Right before John stops in front of Theodore Timber’s apartment, my cell phone starts buzzing. It startles me.

  “Hello,” I say, but it buzzes again. I feel silly as I hit the answer button. “Hello.”

  “Alice,” Tip says. “Are you busy right now?”

  “What you got for me?”

  “There are only four people who can make dimension traps, but they don’t live stateside. They don’t practice magic anymore, either. Three are in an asylum in Oban, Stewart Island.”

  “New Zealand?” I ask with a surprise.

  “Yep, and the other is in Hilo, Hawaii. Oh, and you can’t just use a transfer chamber to get into the asylum. It’s protected. You need an appointment. I’ll send their info to you, anyway. Also, I have Vanessa’s class schedule. I’ll send that, as well.”

  “Will you please find out where all of her professors live?”

  “No problem.”

  “Thanks, Tip.”

  “Where do you want to go on our honeymoon? The Bahamas-”

  I disconnect the call and say to John, “Tip is sending Vanessa’s class schedule to my cell, and he’s going to send me the home addresses of her professors. He also told me that there are four people who c
an create dimension traps, but they live outside of the U.S. Three are in an asylum in New Zealand and one is in Hilo, Hawaii.”

  “There has to be more dimension weavers out there. A lot of witches and wizards like to hide their talents from the Magi Elite. Tip has their addresses, right?”

  “Yes, he’s sending it, but we have to get an appointment with the asylum. Just can’t walk in through a transfer chamber.”

  “Text tip and tell him to contact the asylum. He can work on getting that appointment.”

  I do as he says.

  After I’m done, we get out of the truck and look around at our surroundings. The apartment building is rundown. Almost every window has an air conditioner, and the ones that don’t is shattered and covered with plywood.

  Apartment 25 is the door John knocks on. The television is on, and it sounds like a game show is playing. No one answers the door. John bangs on it harder. Still no response. I wrap my hand around the knob and unlock it. We walk into a trashed room. The glass coffee table is broken. The television is on the floor, but it’s still playing. The sofa is on its back, and the cushions are tossed around the room. There are burn marks on the walls and on the floor. Obviously, there was a fight here, a supernatural one. John goes in one direction, and I go in another. I’m not sure what to look for, and I’m not sure if John knows, either. It’s a chaotic scene that doesn’t make sense.

  John makes his way into the kitchen. From where I stand, the kitchen doesn’t look as bad. I go into the bedroom, and there isn’t anything out of place. The bed isn’t made, but that’s no big deal. I check the closet, and his clothes are piled on the floor. A lazy guy who doesn’t want to put up his clean clothes. That’s really no clue of anything.

  The bathroom is the last thing I check, and it has the basic stuff any one person would need for hygiene. I go back into the living room and look around one last time.

  John comes over to me, and he’s holding a picture in his hands. He gives it to me. It shows Timber standing with his hands at his side, and he’s facing us. His expression shows no emotions. He’s simply staring straight ahead.

  “Another dimension trap,” John says.

  This case has grown exponentially. I take the picture of Vanessa out of my pocket, and I put the two together.

  I dial up Tip. Music is playing in the background when he picks up.

  “Can you check Moore County Sheriff Department and find out if Theodore Timber has been reported missing?”

  “Hold on,” Tip says.

  There is a moment of muffled sounds and typing, but soon he returns.

  “No, but I see there are close to fifty people reported missing in Dumas and surrounding areas since January 2004.” He’s typing again. “They’re all different ages, men and women, one guy as young as 19 years old.”

  “Are you serious?” I ask. “Have any of them been found?”

  “According to the case files I’m searching through right now, all of them have been found, including Vanessa Brenlich.”

  “Different cops working the case?”

  “One cop from my initial look, but there could be more than one. The name on the first few that I see is Detective Matthew Boyd.”

  “Really? Can you send those reports to me, please?”

  “You know it,” Tip answers. “You need to get a laptop, Alice. It’ll make viewing the reports much easier, or find someplace you can print all of this stuff until you do get one.”

  “John, do you know where we can find a printer or a fax machine?” I ask.

  “Any hotel here in town,” he says.

  I get back on the phone. “Thank you, Tip. You’re a real life saver.”

  “Should I go look for wedding bands?”

  I can only shake my head as I end the call.

  After telling John what Tip has revealed, he repeats with disbelief, “Fifty people, and all of the cases are closed?”

  “Tip will be sending the reports to my phone.”

  “Good,” John says.

  I tell him about Detective Boyd working the cases involving other missing people in the county.

  “If a cop is involved, that’s going to make our job tougher.”

  “Sounds like to me it already got tough.”

  CHAPTER 15

  John and I check Vanessa’s class schedule. She disappeared on December 12, 2019. That was a Thursday. Her only class that day was with World History Professor Ashley Jones. We decide to pay her a visit before finding a hotel.

  Professor Jones lives in Dumas, about ten minutes away from Timber’s apartment. We enter a lobby filled with plants and art deco paintings hanging on faux wood walls. The elevator ride is decorated in the same scheme, except there are no plants inside. We get to the 5th floor and step out onto a hallway that goes a few yards to the left and right. There are four doors on each side of the elevator. The one we’re looking for is all the way at the end to the right.

  We ring the doorbell and wait patiently. Before John can press the button again, the door opens. A woman with a short crop hairstyle and catlike eyes stands in the entrance. She’s a petite woman wearing blue jeans and a red blouse.

  “Good afternoon, Professor Jones. I’m Alice. This is John Zuller. We were wondering if you could answer some questions about Vanessa Brenlich.”

  “Vanessa Brenlich? I’m not sure if I can.”

  John says, “Maybe, you know something that you might not realize.”

  “I seriously doubt it. I teach close to 75 students a day. I don’t know any of them.”

  “Can you, at least, tell us if she attended your class on Thursday, December 12th?” I ask.

  “Why?”

  “We want to know if she showed up that day.”

  “Are you the police?” she asks as she crosses her arms.

  “No, ma’am,” John answers.

  “Then I can’t help you.”

  He gives me a look, wanting me to jump in. I decide to let him handle her. “Professor Jones, we only want to know if she was there. She’s still missing.”

  “From what I heard on the news, she’s been found.”

  “That’s not true,” he remark.

  “Says you? I’m not going to tell you if she was in my class or not. Obviously, you’re not the police or in any official capacity. Our conversation is over. Have a good day.”

  She closes the door. I’m so aggravated with that woman, but I let it go. I figure there’s nothing for her to offer us, anyway. I’ll find out through Tip. He’ll be able to access her records. Hopefully, she keeps attendance electronically.

  I give my old friend a call back. I ask Tip to hack into the professor’s computer files at the school. He does so without hesitation, and he finds out that Vanessa wasn’t there. I got my answer, even though it doesn’t lead me any closer to who has put Vanessa in the dimension trap. One thing I am certain of is that after work, she didn’t go to school. Her time is unaccounted for.

  The only person who might be able to answer some questions about Vanessa is Allison Landon. Vanessa went to see her that last day at work. She might have a clue as to where she went. I call Tip again and get her home address.

  “Head for Allison Landon’s home,” I say to John.

  “We’re skipping the hotel?”

  “Yes, we are.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Allison Landon’s house is west of Dumas in Hartley, Texas, set against a large backdrop of desert. The dirt driveway winds for what looks like a mile, but almost halfway up, we see an upside down car. Two men with a tow truck are preparing to upright it.

  When we get to them, I ask John to stop the truck. I let down the window and call to them. A bearded man with dirty blue jeans and a plaid shirt comes around the upside down car. He takes out his handkerchief from his back pocket and wipes his forehead as he shuffles towards us.

  “Yeah,” he says.

  “What happened here?” I ask.

  “Accident last night,” he answers as he places a han
d on the door. “Two people dead.”

  “You know who they were?”

  “The folks that live up at that house. Don’t know their names.”

  I look at John with utter surprise.

  The bearded man continues, “The husband was driving too fast, hit a coyote. Cops say he was drunk.”

  “So much for talking to Allison Landon,” John says.

  “Thank you,” I tell the bearded man.

  “Sure.” He turns back around slowly and limps back to the car.

  John drives up to the house and park behind a police cruiser. I get out of the truck and look around the property from where I stand. The Landon family hasn’t done much with the land. No grass growing, no hedges or flower beds, and no decorative little garden statues. The only manmade thing on the property is the house.

  John goes to the cruiser and looks through the driver’s side window.

  “What are you looking for?” I ask.

  “Identification.”

  “Why don’t we ask the officer? He must be inside.”

  We walk around to the front of the car and towards the ground level walled in front courtyard. The house is beautiful. It is a stucco styled one level and has several wooden beams sticking out from the front porch overhang.

  Before John starts to knock, the officer pulls the door open and comes outside. Instantly, I feel a power within him, but he’s at ease.

  “Who are you?” he asks.

  “John Zuller. This is Alice.”

  The officer looks at us curiously. He knows John and I have talents, but he doesn’t seem too alarmed about it. This is a good thing. That means he’s not interested in attacking us.

  “Officer David Rossum,” he says. “Are you friends of the family?”

  Officer Rossum has curly hair. He’s tall and on the edge of being overweight. His dark navy blue uniform is a tight fit. He looks like he’s a prisoner of his own clothes.

  “Yes,” John answers quickly. “Mr. Landon was my brother.”

  “Your brother, with two different last names,” Officer Rossum says pointedly.

  “Different mothers.”

  John is not very convincing, and Officer Rossum clearly doesn’t believe him.